His bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore.
I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility.
What great ones do, the less will prattle of.
For we which now behold these present days Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice.
I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds the day.